


Walk It Off

by My_Black_Crimson_Rose6



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family, Modeling, Modern Era, Pregnancy, Romance, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-23
Updated: 2012-09-23
Packaged: 2017-11-14 21:27:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/519679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6/pseuds/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa Stark the beauty. Sansa Stark the Lady. The auburn haired beauty who sang, and danced, and loved all things beautiful. They thought her a child… but she was no longer the child they still believed her to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It all begins somewhere

Sansa Stark was, and still is a beautiful woman. Her smiles would make even the hardest man’s knees weaken and their hearts leap to their throat. Her long auburn hair curling near her waist in thick, large rings, and vivid Tully blue eyes… she was of Tully colouring, only with age had she finally demonstrated her Stark nature.  
The cameras flickered as she continued, [i]‘one foot in front of the other’,[/i] those thoughts far too complex to keep her heart from fluttering painfully and constricting her throat. She paused at the end of the runway, her eyes searching with the ever present grin, fake as it was, painted on her face. She was beautiful. She knew it, they knew it… everyone knew it. Yet where was he?  
Her mother had sat there, in the seat between Eddard Stark, Sansa’s father, and Robb, her elder brother. Sansa had hoped that Robb would bring a woman along, but the seat beside him was taken by his childhood friend—Theon. With a twirl in the ridiculously high heeled shoes she was forced into, Sansa Stark returned to the dressing room.  
Another outfit, another walk, pause, walk, strip, dress… repeat. That was her life now. Sansa Stark the model. Sansa Stark the beauty. Sansa Stark the Lady. The auburn haired beauty who sang, and danced, and loved all things beautiful. They thought her a child… she had grown, and still she grew every day, and night.  
Sansa Stark was no longer the child they still believed her to be.  
When she returned to the catwalk, her Tully blue eyes had seen the shadow along the back for the first time that night. And she smiled. With a hood drawn over his head, hiding his face from her and others… she knew. And knew again when his gray eyes glinted with jealousy—he hated that so many where staring at her. His beauty. His little bird. [i]‘His. His. His,’[/i] she grins holding her head up higher as she paused. Grin for the pictures, then turn.  
And turn she did. With every step her hips swung out further then necessary. She held the attention of quiet a few eyes, and she knew one of them were his gray ones. She slipped back into the dressing room. “Where do you want this outfit?” she spoke, turning a few heads.  
“I’ll take it once you’re out.” Sansa nodded, felling the woman’s hands assist her with the zippers, buttons and ties.  
[i]‘They must always see to it that I were the most elaborate clothing, making it seem like hours to finally to finally rid myself of it,’[/i] she thought with a giggle. She knew what he would say to it.  
“What’s so funny Miss Stark?” the woman questioned as the cloth slipped from her shoulders.  
“Just what my boyfriend would say to all these clothing,” she giggled, the cloth pooled around her shoed feet.  
“And what would he say?”  
Sansa stepped from the circle of fabric, her feet had already gone numb from the heels, and she does not care if she is to deal with them for a few more passing moments. “That they’re pointless, and that no one in their right mind should invest in something like this,” she gestured to the article of clothing that the woman now hung on the wire-hanger. “Too many obstructions.”  
“Well he would be true about this piece,” she replied with a smile.  
Sansa laughed, “I agree,” her voice muffled as she pulled her cocktail gown up her smooth legs. “Would you zip me up?” She swept her long locks over her shoulder as the zipper closed. Her parents will wait for her outside, while she would have to excuse herself. She would say she promised to go to dinner with a few friends, while in truth, she would be returning to his apartment where they will engage in many sorts of activities… not all of them being appropriate of a Lady with being wed, even in this day in age. And she would not like mother or father know that their proper little Lady was being bedded by him.  
For Sansa Stark was pregnant…  
…and Sandor Clegane was the father.


	2. Breath Mints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had a routine. And that was her mistake.

She had a routine. Wake up, Eat (half asleep), rinse mouth (half asleep), brush teeth (half asleep), take birth control (half asleep), shower (now fully awake), dress, and leave. Or, at least that's what it was before. It was near the end April when she began to feel sick. He had noticed: her pale face, she looked almost sickly... but the glow. The glow is what threw him off.  
His eyes narrowed, "something's wrong." Always straight to the point, his tone almost harsh as he studied the high school student. His large hands either gripped the door, or clenched so tightly in a fist that his knuckles began turning pasty-white. Sansa nodded, as she hugged her school bag to her chest, her Tully blue eyes staring past him and into the apartment. "Get in."  
The eldest daughter of Catelyn and Eddard Stark kicked off her shoes as she entered—she was pass feeling like the little Lady, and more towards the sick teenager with a test that she had to do in her bag. "I'll be back," Sansa whispered as he closed the door behind her. With the bag still clutched against her chest, Sansa Stark closed, and locked the door. It was small, so much smaller than what she was used to at home—coming from a rich family and all. But she felt safer, more at home in his apartment then her childhood manor with her pretty and rich lifestyle.  
He had changed her. The man they named 'The Hound'… it was… queer. She sighed, [i]'let's get this over with,'[/i] she thought tearing the packaging open. Her heart thumped in her throat as she removed her pants and underwear with shaken fingers. How could this even be happening? She had always taken her pill, and always at the same time (give or take ten minutes) each day. She was a good girl, only having unprotected sex… rarely. But they had never had a problem before! Never. Only this month… only this one month.  
Why was April, spring, so dark? Weren't the Stark words "Winter is Coming"? Spring always symbolized life, the beginning of… she understood it. The beginning of a new life. A new life… growing within her. She placed the test of the counter as she waited for the results. Negative or positive… what would it show? One line, or two?  
"Oh god," she felt like she would be sick as she redressed herself, and flushed. She still waited… washing her hands as slow as she could. [i]'This wait is worse than whatever it'll say…'[/i] she thought, tapping her nails against the counter. She glanced at the test once more… and puked.  
Two lines.  
She sobbed, what did it mean again?  
Pregnant.  
Oh god she's going to be a mother. She was only seventeen! She'll be out of school soon, sure, but she wasn't ready! Abortion? No, she wasn't going to kill her baby, their baby. What would he even say? Would he even look at her again? Would he love her, hate her… she didn't know. And she was afraid. Her mother would be ashamed. Sansa had shamed her family.  
She spat, the saliva too thick for her to swallow. She dumped the box in the trash, gathered her bag, and rinsed the vomit from the sink. [i]'Winter is over, and in its place spring has come,'[/i] she sighed her fingers tightening its hold on the test. Her feet barely made a sound as she returned to the front door to dispose of her school bag.  
It was quiet. "Sandor?" she called, as she glanced into the kitchen. Followed by the kitchen, living room, before finally spotting his large form at the end of the bed, just sitting. His gray eyes studying her. His eyes dropped to her hands, then back to her face—her tears had ruined and ran her makeup and her eyes stung, puffy from tears.  
“For fuck’s sake.”  
Lips parted, only to seal again. “I… I’m sorry,” Sansa sobbed clutching the test in perfectly manicured fingers, nails tipped in white polish while the rest glistened in a clear gloss. She knew nothing, she concluded as she sunk to the ground in front of him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, fat tears gathered, pooling on her fingers in till the test finally fell from numb fingers. “I’m so, so sorry,” she repeated.  
He didn’t touch her… didn’t look at her. Just stood up, and left. The front door slammed behind him. She had just wanted him to tell her something, touch her… bring her into his strong arms and whisper lies. But The Hound never lied, not to her at least. And deep inside she didn’t want him to, she wanted him to just say something. Something was better than nothing. Always better than nothing. Always.  
She sighed, salted water still gathered on her painted eyelashes. “I…I need to figure out what to do,” she swallowed; her voice wavered and crack under the strain. She had only meant to wait for his return, and discuss this… unfortunate… circumstance like reasonable adults. Young adult in her case. She was merely seventeen. Seventeen and pregnant… she would be her own show. How shameful. She clenched her eyes shut, [i]‘maybe it’s all just a nightmare, and when I wake up Sandor would be in bed beside me and I would be wrapped in his embrace,’[/i] it was childish, she knew, but she couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help it. She couldn’t keep herself from wishing that things would just go back to normal.  
Back to times when her birth control had actually worked.  
XOX  
It was the week she was supposed to get her ‘Aunt Flow’; she still took out the pads, rolled them out and stuffed them in the garbage, same with the tampons. She had to keep the appearances, her maids had eyes, and their mouths would open and spread with any sort of gossip. That was why she took all her birth control out of its packaging and into an inconspicuous metal case. A mint case. Hidden in her private bathroom, where no one would think anything of it.  
Sansa pushed the pills from the packaging and into the case; it was no different from the ones last month. White, plain, nothing note worthy. It was pointless to continue, but she had been used to this routine for the past few years—and yet it was only last week that her life turned upside down. Sandor didn’t even return that night that her fears were confirmed… even now she could not reach him.  
She returned the case to the corner, surrounded by perfume, and lotions and make up. It did not look out of place. It fit. She closed her bedroom door as she left. Strawberries. She wanted strawberries.  
And yet something stopped her from taking those stairs.  
A door closed and another opened.  
[i]‘It’s nothing,’[/i] she thought, her feet still refused to move forward. She stole a glance around the corner. Her door was open. An auburn eyebrow raised, her curiosity was pinched. She had to know. She peaked into her room… no one. Bathroom. Was Arya stealing makeup?  
…she did remember her gray eye shadow missing a month ago…  
A month ago.  
“What are you doing?!” Sansa shouted, startling the other girl. Two metal cases. One hers, while the other… mints. Her face paled. “What are you doing?!” she shouted again when Arya pocketed her whole case.  
She was caught.  
“It’s not like you need them!” her younger sister shouted back.  
Her nails dug into her stomach. Her routine. It was all her fault! Her and her stupid routine, if only she took her pills before she brushed her teeth, then maybe she would have tasted the difference. She should have known! She sobbed, bile rose, her knees wobbled. She should have paid more attention…  
“You can’t tell mother!” the younger Stark daughter hissed, her deep brown hair shaking along with her head. “Promise me! You can’t tell anyone!”  
Breath mints… Sansa Stark was pregnant due to breath mints… she couldn’t believe it.


	3. Victoria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I was at the hospital"

"[b]I'm outside.[/b]" Almost a week after she discovered the truth about her birth control and since he walked out; a week later…he had finally made contact with her. About time. She almost wished to reply with something clever, but the relief of his return dulled her anger to a whisper. There was forty minutes remaining in the class, and the door was right behind her.  
To leave or not to leave… that was the question. Stuffing her book, pen, and notebook into her purse, Sansa Stark proceeded to stand and leave the classroom. It was that easy. She felt dangerous—no, wild! Sansa Stark, the wild child! She threw that idea from her mind; Arya was the wild one… the trouble maker of the family. "You left," she glared, as she pulled open the door.  
"I'm back."  
Throwing her purse into the back, Sansa sat in the car, "You still left when I needed you," she hissed slamming the door in spite. [i]'You can stop fluttering heart, just because I love him this does not change anything,'[/i] she pouted clicking the belt into place.  
Sandor chuckled, only he would find humor in a middle of a spat, "You'll need me more now, and the rest of these months then you needed me then." Simple, why did he make it sound so simple, while Sansa herself could not come to terms with the situation. "If you plan on keeping it, that is…"  
"Do you…?" she turned in her seat, the surroundings blurred around her as his gray eyes glanced her way.  
"That's up to you," he replied clutching the steering wheel in his left while his right squeezed her thigh.  
"I can't kill it."  
His thumb rubbed small circles on her bare legs, "I know… nine months, how are you going to hide that?"  
"I'm not," she sighed resting her head against the window as her Tully blue eyes studied him, "I'm not going to tell them for awhile though. So we can figure this out ourselves." He laughed, starting as a rumble in his throat before it escaped his lips. "What?" she exclaimed slapping the man's arm.  
The burned man grinned, "You've grown more in a week than you have in half a year."  
She blinked, really? She turned, back straight, knees together, hands in lap... well hands on his that were in her lap. It was really the same thing. "Were did you go?" she clutched his hand. Eyes refusing to leave their fingers, his squeezing back. Dirt. He had worked today.  
The car stopped, engine off, radio still but a dull hum. "Hospital and work, I just came home today," he closed his eyes, "I want you to meet someone." They left the car, taking her purse as she left Sansa pulled her hair into a high tail, she was actually walking into Westeros Hospital—her doctors always came to her, Sansa Stark never needed public clinics or hospitals. Private, private, money, money. She was rich. Born lucky, with her looks and her money, and yet look at her now. Pregnant at seventeen and walking into a public hospital, the shame she would put on her parents!  
"Who?" she whispered moving closer to the above average height man. He refused to answer, so she made some guesses. Started out as his mom, but she scratched that, maybe another woman? But she was his [b]only[/b] woman... right? Maybe she was in fact prettier than her! But Sandor had said that he had not dated anyone other than Sansa.  
But he never said since her.  
She threaded their fingers together, [i]'I'm being childish Sansa, only you're stupid enough find that burned face of his attractive,'[/i] she thought shaking her head. She was just being stupid like everyone says. [i]'And like him for the fact that he's brutally honest with you... and even slightly harsh. At least he isn't false, like my friends, and Joffrey... and his horrid mother!'[/i] she mused. Her thoughts turning down paths that she would rather not have them travel as her fears grew.  
"Oh, afternoon Mr. Clegane, your sister was just asking about you," a nurse smiled, her eyes unable to glance at his face or eyes. Sansa scowled, he was still a handsome man, they need not divert their eyes!  
"You have a sister?" A nod. Her panic simmered before cooling all together, he visited his sister. She had not known him to have any other siblings except the monster of an elder one named Gregor. Just thinking about him made her stomach turn and bile rise. Sick. He should be locked away and never have the freedom of seeing a shred of sunlight.  
He had told her the story, while intoxicated, of how he obtained his horrendous burns. His elder brother had held his head over an open flame, allowing the tendrils to lick at his flesh. Scotching, and destroying his boyish features, and forcing him to grow up far too quickly. While his father concealed his eldest son's crimes, and only driving the younger boy to the hospital hours after the incident had left Sandor's scars to puss and seep into near infection due to his haste to extinguish it.  
All because of a toy... a little wooden knight.  
In all the fairytales that she's shared with him, he had always hated the knight. They resuced the princess; he had saved her from Joffrey, his former employer. And because of her Sandor had lost his job. Her prince turned out to be a real... she couldn't describe Joffrey in one fancy word, monster, prick, asshole... those three seemed to fit perfectly.  
"I was thinking you had forgot!" a voice shouted, shattering her inner musing. The Stark girl took in the plain room, this was her first time visiting a hospital, and she had ruined most of it so far with haunting memories and needless fears.  
"You're too loud to be forgotten," the man who she still grasped onto seemed to melt away. He seemed innocent of the fact that he was smiling (ever the smallest, but still a smile), an activity that he thinks makes him seem far more ugly than he already was. Sansa thought otherwise, sure the left side of his face twitched at times, and it made the burns pull into odd formations that just looked awkward, but Sansa loved the fact that she made him smile... as rare as it was.  
But this girl, she couldn't be any younger than Arya nor older than she, she made him smile and melt away like... when Sansa held babies, that feeling of pure... bliss. They had a bond these two siblings, and with that knowledge Sansa wanted to get to know her. Befriend her? Maybe.  
"Hi Sansa, I'm Victoria Clegane. I'm Sandor's babysitter," Victoria smiled gesturing to the chair at her side. "But you can call me Vic... if you want to," she trailed off, glancing from the auburn haired beauty to her brother. "Um, did you bring me the tea?" she questioned, threating her fingers together and placing them under her chin.  
"No, I was too busy kidnapping Miss Stark," he gestured to the seventeen year old.  
"But you promised Sandor~," she pouted batting her long lashes rimmed gray eyes. 'Clegane eyes' Sansa concluded leaving Sandor's side to join his sister's. [i]'Might as we take this time to talk with the girl.'[/i]  
"It's okay, I'll stay here," Sansa gave him a warm smile. I'm okay, just go.  
An eyebrow rose, oh really?  
She giggled hands shooing him away. Yes now go.  
He grunted, but left.  
The door had only just closed when those Clegane gray eyes focused on her, "I know you're pregnant, and I know Sandor's the father," she stated, shocking the elder girl into silence. "And I know that he's scared... and he doesn't fear much..."


	4. Fears and Concerns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His Ladies have a chat.

"I know you're pregnant, and I know Sandor's the father," she had said. This girl, younger than herself, so very fragile and yet she could make a grown man shed all his armor. "And I know that he's scared... and he doesn't fear much..." she spoken in a near whisper.  
"How...?"  
Victoria smiled, "he told me. There's not much that he hides from me," she tucked a deep brown strand of hair behind her ear, "and in return I don’t hide from him. We hide far too much from our brother; we don't need the added pressure of hiding from each other." Victoria Clegane was a teen of a slim figure. She looked even more 'twig-like' than Sansa, and it was not in a beautiful way either. Victoria, or Vic, looked sickly. Her complexion near paste, the contrast of her dark brown hair and pale skin was striking, and it kept her from dissolving into the eggshell white of the hospital room.  
White walls, white bed, white sheets, white curtains... white everything... all but her deep hair that reminded her of Arya's and the gray of her eyes that were completely Clegane.  
"I," Sansa swallowed; what could she possibly say to her? "I know how, and who gave him those burns."  
A pained smile crossed the younger teens' lips, "did he tell you how I tried to pull Gregor off him, and how..." Victoria shook her head. "Of course not! He's very protective like that... he doesn't like it when people he cares about are known. I know if he had it his way he would steal me away and never let anyone see or touch me again, if that was what I truly wanted." She shook her head, giggling, "I guess you can say he's like an over protective dog with a bone."  
"He [i]is[/i] called the Hound..." Sansa stated almost endearing.  
"A horrible name, meant to only degrade him. But he does act like the typical guard dog... growls, barks, then bites. Loyal to his master, or masters in this case."  
Sansa stared; "what do you mean?"  
"He only told me of you because he let it slip; he doesn't talk about the people he cares about, because he doesn't want them hurt! Silly, silly," her wrist weak as she waved it in her direction. A smile. No sense of mockery, or evil. Victoria tilted her head in thoughts, “but what puzzles me is, how did you even end up with him?”  
The hairs at the back of Sansa’s neck rose, “what do you mean?” her voice wavered and in her ears she sounded like the little girl that she truly was.  
“In school you’re so focused on beauty, popularity, and perfection. This world is a song for you, and yet, here you are. You’re Sansa Stark of House Stark; you’re a beautiful young lady, from a high-class family, and you’re not missing anyone from the picture. The only smudge in that perfection was Joffery, and yet here you are. About a year and a half later, pregnant and with Sandor [i]fucking[/i] Clegane!”  
As soon as Sansa had walked into this place she was confused. And now, who was this girl to tell her what to do with her life, and who to see? “Why do you even want to know?” she shouted grounding the palms of her hands into her temples.  
Victoria sighed, “Because he’s my big brother, and as much as he boasts about being invincible, he’s not. And one of these days something’s finally going to break him, and I don’t want to just sit around in a hospital bed and watch him and his life fall apart because he’s smitten for some highborn princess who doesn’t care about anyone but herself. I’ve seen how you are Sansa, you turn up your pretty little nose at the very thought of something… ugly, and here you are impregnated by my older brother—half of his face burned, with a horrible temper and one hell of a potty mouth to boot… this is all just a little… ‘Out-there’ for me to grasp!”  
She stood, “I don’t know how it happened okay! I don’t know! What do you want me to say? That I’ve been head-over-heels in love with him? No, I was scared of him. He was mean, and ugly, and so bloody honest that it hurt!” She panted her chest rose and fell heavily with each gasp of breath, she was just so angry. Why would she have to explain her choices? Yeah, it was queer to even believe that she was with The Hound, but so what!?  
The girl in the bed laughed, she threw her head back and howled with laugher.  
“What’s so funny?”  
Just more laughter, tears gathered at the corners of the brunettes eyes as she laughed.  
“What?!” Sansa snapped.  
“I never thought,” Victoria paused to finish her giggling, “that you would fall for him for his brutal honesty!”  
"Are all Clegane's like this?" she puffed out her pink cheeks in embarrassment.  
Victoria smiled, "only the ones that care," she replied, her voice filled with pride. "I'm sorry, I am, I don't mean to put you on the spot like this, but I didn't know when the next time we would be able to truly talk about him while alone." The girl pointed to a large bag beside Sansa, "can you please get that? I can't reach."  
The redhead took hold of the bag, metal clanked together as she exhaled deeply. It was heavier than she had believed, "what's in here?"When the high-born lady heaved the bag onto the bed- somehow avoiding the girl's feet, "what's in there?" she asked again.  
"My leg braces. I need them to walk."  
Sansa blinked, "why?" she voiced before covering her mouth, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't ask such things. You don't need to tell me anything-"  
"No, no, it's fine. I've just had my legs broken too many times; they can't support my weight fully on their own, well at least if I walk or stand for too long. So these," she pulled out one brace, the buckles and metal bars drew Sansa's attention, "they support me in whatever I do. The doctor's wanted to place me in a wheelchair, but Sandor fought for my case, and so I'm still able to have the freedom of walking... and..." she trailed off.  
"And?"  
"I don't know if I can dance anymore..."  
"Do you like dancing?" Sansa smiled, she loved dancing. Ballroom dancing was by far her favorite. She would watch movies, Disney mostly, and just grab a pillow and just dance along. And sing at times when no one could hear her.  
"I've dreamt that I was Aurora, from Sleeping Beauty, and just dance with my prince charming. But I'm more of a beast with these clunky [i]things[/i] on my legs," she grimaced strapping the buckles around her legs before her wobbly feet touched the ground. "The doctors tell me that before I can leave I have to regain my confidence in walking alone. Would you like to walk down the hall with me? We can talk about something else... you choose," Victoria smiled, her hands gripping the bed as both feet stood on the ground.  
Sansa nodded, "We can talk about Disney movies..."  
The brunette smiled, "That'll be very nice, I only seem to watch Disney now. Princes and princesses, dancing and laughing, and overall innocence... makes me wish that I was a kid again."  
"My brother, Bran, is in a wheelchair... sometimes we just sit together and he watches Sleeping Beauty with me. He wishes that he was Phillip, able to battle dragons and rescue the princess."  
"And what's your favorite movie?"  
Sansa smiled, holding open the door for the quivering girl, "Beauty and The Beast. Sandor hates it; I've tried to get him to watch it with me..."  
"I always get him to watch it with me, I love it- just pull out the water works and he'll stay. He always does..."  
[i]'He didn't when I told him I was pregnant...'[/i] Sansa thought bitterly.  
“…well, most of the time,” Victoria added as an afterthought, remembering a time when he simply had to leave. “But enough of Sandor, tell me about you.”  
“What do you want to know?”  
The high school junior smiled, “anything and everything you’re willing to tell me.”


	5. You Smell like Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was turning out to have too many similarities with her sister... and that frightened her.

“What’s her name?” Victoria smiled; now comfortably back into her bed.   
“Lady, after Lady and the Tramp,” Sansa giggled. It’s been awhile since she was able to talk like this with another person. Only Jeyne Poole remained loyal to her after the split with Joffrey, where all her former friends flocked towards Margaery after their [i]joyous[/i] coupling.   
“I wish we still had our dog… she’s was a little grumpy, but she would melt away when you scratched her chin,” she giggled remembering the old Irish Wolfhound.  
“What happened to her?” Sansa gasped, covering her mouth in shock.   
“They told me she got hit by a car… but I don’t believe them…” Their family was plagued by a first born son, he was uncaring, and true evil. And yet after what Sansa had heard from both younger Clegane’s their parents still favored Gregor over Sandor, and Victoria combined. So after Vic’s (she had nearly forced Sansa to start calling her by the nickname) newly mentioned pet Sansa figured that the eldest Clegane child had his name on this… death.  
“What was her name?” Sansa inquired mournfully.   
“Freeda,” she grinned tangling her fingers together. “He’s taking forever to get back,” she muttered nervously. It was odd, at the beginning Victoria had seemed fearless, but now as the two of them spoke for longer, she became shy. Her face would flush when Sansa asked her a personal question; she was reminding the elder of a frightened puppy.   
Bark, stop and stare, bark again… “He’s just allowing us to talk for awhile, before he returns.” The door opened then, a doctor and Sandor (ducked) strolled into the room.  
“How are you feeling Victoria? I see you have a new friend,” the doctor smiled looking down at a clipboard in his hands.  
“Sansa this is Dr. Pycelle, Dr. Pycelle this is Sansa.”  
The old man stared at the auburn haired girl, his eyes recognizing her, “I see. It’s nice to meet you Miss Sansa.”  
“You too.”  
The snowy doctor took her blood pressure, typical, the Clegane siblings told her after he left. The Hound pulled up another chair beside Sansa before sitting; the furniture creaked under his weight. He was a heavy man, but never looked the part. Tall and solid, wide shoulders, stern features, toned muscles. She grinned, and he was all hers.   
Her dog…   
Not theirs.   
X  
It was later that evening when Sansa Stark returned home, her hands pushing the door quietly closed behind her. Click. She let out a sigh, [i]‘home without a fuss’[/i] she thought pleasantly, it was only as of late that her parents started to question her comings and goings. [i]‘They shouldn’t have assumed that I was such a good little girl, and maybe this would not have happened.’[/i]  
The last few hours were very enjoyable; she had fun watching the Clegane siblings interact. [i]‘Would he be as gentle with it as he is with his sister?’[/i] Hand on her stomach. Blink, shaking those thoughts from her mind she continued to place her shoes in the closet, before shutting the door.  
A face grinning ear to ear, “you smell like death,” he stared. Theon Greyjoy. Robb’s best friend ever since childhood, and a pervert—she couldn’t believe that she had to sleep under the same roof as him. Too many days she had to put up with him. Him and his grins… and his whispers… his words defiling her, and his eyes undressing her.   
“Hospital,” she corrected, stepping back from him. “I smell like a hospital.”  
“Why’s that?” he stepped closer.  
Back, “my friend’s sister was there and they wanted us to meet, so I met her. She’s very nice,” her back hit the wall. Trapped. And yet she was smug, [i]‘don’t say he, don’t mention that I was with a boy. Too many questions and the wrong person will be asking them,’[/i] she thought keeping herself focused on the nineteen (and a half) year old that kept advancing towards her.  
A hand beside her head drew her attention, “don’t tell me you’re scared of me Sansa, we grew up together. We used to run around naked when we were kids, why don’t we do it again now. C’mon Sansa,” he purred.  
“What would my brother think of you saying these things to me? It’s not proper.” Calm, cold, calculating. Proud, she was so very proud of herself. [i]‘Keep calm, and Robb will come looking for him soon,’[/i] she concluded never wavering her focus from the young man in front of her.   
“Bugger that,” he grinned. Theon and his grins, he was almost as… no, he was nowhere close to that monster. Theon wanted one thing, and only that. He and so many others. Her mother had tried to arrange her marriage with Joffrey, but that had ended in blood. Too many other callers to count, to many proposals, and yet Sansa had already decided whom she would wish to be with.  
To give herself to. To ruin herself with… her purity, her childish innocence… everything.  
She gave herself to Sandor Clegane, and yet the men kept on coming.  
[i]‘It’ll all end when they all know… but I will not tell… not yet.’[/i]  
After the promise between Joffrey and Sansa had turned to ruins, Sansa’s Tully blue eyes were opened. What if her next suitor was even worse that Joff? She refused to allow herself to be sold again, yes she had thought to love him, but she had been so very wrong. Sansa Stark vowed, to herself, that she would never again allow her parents choose, what they deemed, a suitable man.   
The Hound was true; he was honest and brave, bold and strong. Yes his face was burned, and he frowned almost all the time. Sandor Clegane was, and is, a good man. As much as he hated that term. He was her knight (he hated that one too), her guard against the evil of the world, and she was his Lady, his Little Bird. She would be there to show him that there was still good in the world, and she would help him find it.  
[i]‘What would Sandor do… well for one, he wouldn’t be in this situation… punch him? No, not proper. Oh gods he’s trying to kiss me!’[/i] She clenched her eyes shut, before slamming her palm up into his face. Contact, and a howl of pain. She peaked one eye open, blood was leaking through his fingers as he clutched his nose. [i]‘I hit him! I actually hit him!’[/i] a small smile pulled at her lips before the horror set in. [i]‘I hit him. That wasn’t proper at all! Oh mother will be furious!’[/i] she stared at the young adult in front of her.  
[i]‘Run.’[/i] She danced around him, and bee-lined to stairs, two at a time. [i]‘Don’t look back, just run, and get to your room.’[/i] Room, check. She closed the door, locking it. Check. She hooked a chair under the handle. [i]‘I should be good,’[/i] she sighed sitting in the center of the room, staring at the door. Waiting for Theon to curse and swear, bounding at the door. Nothing… just silence.  
She couldn’t have hit him that hard, nothing broken, she didn’t even bruise. So that should have counted for something! She nodded to herself, “I just hit Theon…” she mumbled, “I’m turning out to be another Arya…” she hung her head. “Let’s hope mother doesn’t hear of this…”


	6. The Mother, The Bird, and Her Search

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Planning, she needed to figure out what she could and could not do and how to get away with it for as long as possible.

“You’re a lady,” Catelyn Stark stared at her eldest daughter. “I never thought I would have this conversation with you Sansa. Arya, yes, but you? Never,” her mother’s face wrinkled into an unattractive frown.  
“Frowning does not become you, Mother,” Sansa blankly avoided the topic, in turn turning it to her mother. “Did you know that the maids have been going through my things?” She kept talking, finding something else to mention to her mother. “I have work to see to, and I don’t see why I should be here.”  
Her mother stood, “enough with this Sansa. You hit Theon, I don’t care if he deserved it, you are a lady of the Stark family and my daughter! I do not condone this misbehavior, and to a guest of all people Sansa!” her voice grew, its volume increasing with each passing second.   
“You won’t let me tell you my side…” Sansa mumbled her toes griping the carpet.  
Catelyn sighed pinching the bridge of her nose, “just go to your room, Sansa Jane Stark.”  
“Yes Mother,” the teenager replied turning, her hair fluttered behind her and against her creamy white cheeks. [i]“I knew this would happen,”[/i] she mused returning to her lightly coloured room. Lady, her beautiful fluffy dog, tilted her head at Sansa. What’s the matter? “No one understands Lady,” she sighed sliding down the closed door. “People think that my world is made of roses, and I walk along a red carpet… that I don’t get dirty… or ruined. But ever since Joffery…”  
The wolf-dog patted her way to the girl, “ever since… that… prick… I don’t know Lady. But it feels as if I’ve just changed.” Lady licked at the redhead’s hands, tickling her fingers with lighthearted nibbles. “I what to tell Mother so badly, but I can’t. She won’t listen, she’s so focused on Robb, Father, Bran, Rickson, and keeping Arya in line that I just slip through the cracks. I’m the perfect little [i]Lady[/i]… but… I don’t know if I want to be much of a Lady anymore. The dresses, and the life is grand, but I must always think: ‘will I ruin my family’s reputation?’ or ‘what would Mother think about this?’”   
Lady nuzzled her master’s hands, “the only time I don’t need to worry about this is when I’m with Sandor… he likes this me… he likes the me I was before, but the lies and the forced thanks was what he hated… and I was full of those. I was a frightened child then… and I would like to believe that I’m a woman grown now. Matured. Beautiful,” she smiled to herself, rubbing Lady’s ear. “I’ll be able to hide it for a few more months… its only around three months that it starts showing, right Lady?” she questioned, both her and the dog’s eyes locked.   
I don’t know, her eyes voiced as her ear twitched.  
“Oh that’s not helpful Lady, you’re supposed to be my voice of reason—you’re my Lady during times when I cannot be one!”  
Another flick of her ear.  
“You’re right, this is stupid, I should just Google this!” she stood and marched to the other side of her room where the computer slept.   
[b]When does pregnancy start to show?[/b]  
“Mother never showed in till her second trimester, even with Robb…” Sansa mumbled, clicking on site after the other. [i]“I’m slim, so I may be able to pull off my showing for a little while… maybe even week 13? The second trimester… maybe if I’m lucky that’s when I’ll show. But I’ll have to cover for my period for three months…”[/i]  
She cleared her search history, never could be too careful with watchful maids, before signing into her Facebook account. [b]“Good news or bad news,”[/b] she began to type, [b]“I don’t know how I can describe it…”[/b] Post. Sign off.   
Sansa sighed, “what will I do in till then?”


	7. Sansa the Beauty

The magazines that she and her friend, Jeyne Poole, read weekly lay in front of her on the table. A modeling agency! She smiled; this would solve the money problem. [i]“And keep mother from wondering why I suddenly decided to get a job… she always thought I would marry, and stay home, or even become something,”[/i] Sansa smiled touching the advertisement. [i]“Something that could represent my beauty,”[/i] she thought shutting the magazine with a sigh.  
“I think I’m going to become a model,” Sansa grinned at her friends. The girls that surrounded her gasped.  
“But why would you get a,” they grimaced, “a job?”  
It was true, Sansa Stark had everything. She just had to bat her pretty Tully blue eyes at her mother or father and she would get everything she dreamed of. “Is it so off of me to want to be independent?” she replied cheeks puffing out in frustration.  
“Yes.”  
Sansa stood; “well!” she turned with her head held high, unsure of how to continue the conversation without letting something personal leak. After all these ladies that she’s surrounded herself with were school gossips. They enjoyed ‘singing their songs’ and insulting you from a distance. Sansa Stark was once just like them, always chirping her pleasant little songs and smiling until she hurt.   
Sansa heels clattered down the hall ways, she was surprised on just how quiet they were. Until now she never left either the cafeteria or one of the classrooms where her clubs met. She never felt the need to leave, nor was it in truth the most popular thing to do. The popular people hung out where everyone hung out, the cafeteria, and Sansa Stark was popular. Her beauty made her the apple of many eyes.   
So why did she find herself with a guy like Sandor?   
Well that story was far more complex that Sansa herself was truly able to understand. She liked him for his honestly; she loved and hated that feature of him the most. His scars were what drew her attention, they were ugly, and the story behind them were was even uglier. But the kindness that he hid behind his well placed mask of hatred and anger was what had her drawn to him.   
He was infatuated with her; she was able to see that months after her engagement to Joffrey. But only after months. She always had thought love was magic, when a man and woman fell in love with each other the world stopped and they lived happily ever after. The End. But she had thought she loved Joffrey, until he turned into a real prick.   
And Sandor was the only buffer she had against him.  
He was strong, both in physical and mental aspects, and he was loyal, loyal to her. And that’s what she needed in this world. Just one person, at least who could not betray or leave her even when they believed her to be completely fine. Her parents had thought she was happy when she was with Joffrey, and when she finally left him caused an uproar she never had thought would happen.  
Her father lost out on a very large business deal that would have been tied the very moment Joffrey and Sansa were married. They lost a lot of money. But her family was still supportive, if not kind. Sansa never told them why she had left the blonde. Only that “he wasn’t who she thought he was” and that was the truth.  
“Miss Sansa,” a male voice broke her musings. She blinked her eyes, the veil of thoughts finally passing; she discovered that she had no idea where she was in this part of the school. If she was, in truth, even in the school at all. The bull of a man stood in front of her, she was almost his height she mused pleasantly. She was so used to looking up at the man that towered over her; she worried for her neck when she had to tilt her head back to stare at Sandor for long periods of time.   
“Yes?” she spoke pleasantly enough, plastered a smile on her lips as she smiled up at the boy. He looked like Robert Baratheon, her father’s closest and childhood friend. Sansa knew this boy from somewhere, she just couldn’t remember where.  
“Do you know if Arya stayed home sick, I…” he glanced over his shoulder to his friends, “well, we, were just wondering ‘cause we haven’t seen her all day… miss,” he cleared his throat as a steady blush rose to his cheeks.  
“That’s very kind of you,” she glanced around the built man and to his friends, “and your friends. But I haven’t seen her since this morning. Arya and I aren’t really… on speaking terms at the moment,” Sansa sighed rolling the tip of her red hair as she spoke. Sansa would have told someone what she caught Arya stealing and what caused everything to become so sour. But for once she’s decided to just bite the bullet and keep this little secret between her and her sister.  
The man nodded, “Thank you,” his eyes downcast and a deep flush on his cheeks. It was like he didn’t even treat Arya like a higher class… well now that Sansa thought about it; Arya wasn’t much of a Lady, which was always Sansa’s specialty. This wasn’t the first time that Sansa wished that she could be more like her sister… even just a little. “Miss Sansa,” he added as an afterthought when he noticed that he forgot to say it.  
“My pleasure, and please, when you see her next can you tell her to stay out of my room. She ruins my entire make up assortment.” Sansa smiled, feeling lighter. At least in her heart she was willing to forgive, but not quite willing to word it. The boy blushed but nodded before leaving Sansa to her own.  
The hall was quiet after the group left her, but as she tucked the skirt under her while she sat, Sansa decided to call in a favor. She placed the phone against her ear, the rings echoed in her ear. “This is Petyr Baelish, what do you want?”  
“Hello, this is Sansa Stark. Catelyn Tully-Stark’s daughter… I was wondering if a modeling position was open…”


End file.
